


As I Dream About Movies (they won't make of me when I'm dead).

by adia90



Series: Something For The Pain [3]
Category: Figure Skating RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 18:20:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16959135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adia90/pseuds/adia90
Summary: Coming full circle. (Side along to Now and Then, Send My Love)





	As I Dream About Movies (they won't make of me when I'm dead).

**Author's Note:**

> This angst we're living is making me productive. I'm sorry. May come with a future epilogue.

_The art of losing isn’t hard to master;_  
_so many things seem filled with the intent_  
_to be lost that their loss is no disaster._

**February, 2019**

She has never liked Valentine.

In fact, she has never had a Valentine before. Fucking 29 and still dateless. Loveless.

2014, they were braving themselves for their short on the 16th. Which ended up spectacularly devastating.

2015, she was in a photoshoot. Had a text from Ryan. But that was it.

2016, they didn’t want to go there.

2017, they still didn’t want to go there.

2018, they were feeling much much better than Sochi. Nervous yet excited. But no Valentine being mentioned. She was okay with it. They had so many other important things to think about.

And here she is, in 2019, sitting in her living room, nursing a cheap wine, trying to distract herself with TV, but it’s not working.

In fact, the TV seems to be mocking her with the reruns of Moulin Rouge.

She switches off the TV and makes her way to bed, wine in hand. It has been even harder to fall asleep these past few weeks. Sometimes she goes two days without any solid sleep and she knows it is one of the many signs of trouble. Last week she didn’t leave her bed at all, staring out at the snow falling on her window ledge, and only sustaining on chocolate milk and crackers.

Jordan came by to visit when she rejected her calls three days in a row. It wasn’t the first time her big sister had looked at her akin of pity; and it was fucking embarrassing. She is a three-time Olympian, a millionaire who is generous with her family and friends and still people are pitying her.

She falls down on the bed, contemplating her next move. Her head throbs, her heart beating furiously. She just wants to sleep and forget the past eight months. In a week, it will be a year after they have won their third Olympic. She can’t even bring herself to see their medals; those have been banished to the basement, together with his stuff that had littered her apartment before.

She pulls open her bedside drawer and roots for her prescribed Xanax. Ambien had never worked for her. She remembers JF telling her, take only when you have exhausted your sleep hygiene list. She has, JF, thousand times over, and she needs to sleep dammit.

She pops one, dry. It never worked before with one. She pops another. Then another.

* * *

“Oh wow. Those greens are beautiful. Glad to see them, Miss Virtue.”

Tessa blinks. And blinks again. This person is one to talk. His blue eyes are so damn pretty. And amazing.

“Um.” She starts coughing. 

“Don’t try to talk, Miss Virtue. You’re in the UH emergency. We had to stick a tube down your throat so you might be feeling a bit sore for the next few days,” the man in the green scrub says apologetically. “I have your sister here, who is very eager to talk to you. And tomorrow, we have another doctor visiting you in the ward, to talk more. Nod if you understand what I’m saying.”

Tessa nods, her eyes blinking again. Where the hell is she again?

“You gave everybody quite a scare. I know it’s not my place, but you still have a purpose here,” he says, those baby blues shining kindly. “Sorry if it’s not appropriate?” he adds, cringing slightly.

Tessa attempts a smile. She is still wondering what the hell the handsome doctor is talking about, but she’s not about to tell him to get out from her room. His five o’clock shadow is doing things to her tummy.

Her room.

The last thing she remembers is trying to fall asleep.

“T?”

She looks at the door, where grief-stricken Jordan stands. Her heart breaks at the sight of her sister’s teary face. She opens up her arms, and Jordan runs straight into them.

“You can’t scare me like that again, squirt,” Jordan sobs, her tears soaking Tessa’s hospital gown. She rubs Jordan’s back soothingly, still plenty confused on what happened.

“What happened, Jo-jo?” she croaks, her throat feels like it is on fire.

Jordan pulls away, blinking. She purses her lips, the sign that she is about to burst into crying again. “You can’t recall what happened?”

Tessa shakes her head, biting her bottom lip. She looks around the room for the good doctor, but he is nowhere to be seen. Her gaze settles on Jordan again.

“Tessa, you almost OD-ed on Xanax.”

* * *

She is put on suicide watch, but on a special floor, respecting her privacy. She still can’t believe that they think that she is suicidal. She took some extra Xanax to sleep, not to kill herself.

She tells the handsome doctor she doesn’t require a special treatment, to which he looks at her weirdly.

“You’re not Canadian, are you?”

The doctor smiles sheepishly. “Is it too obvious?”

Tessa returns the infectious smile, and for the first time in months, she feels like her smile is genuine.

She begs Jordan to tell Kate that it’s just food poisoning. Her sister is reluctant, but eventually agrees.

“I wasn’t trying to kill myself, doctor. I had only wanted to sleep. One or two tablets didn’t help before so I took extra,” she tries to explain to the kind looking woman in front of her. She is sitting in her first therapy session after being discharged.

Dr. Selva purses her lips. “Tessa, you didn’t take one or two tablet extra. You took twenty.”

The realisation hits her like a wrecking ball. Her shoulders shudder first, then her face falls in her palms. For the first time in weeks, tears fall.

She has subconsciously tried to kill herself over a man, who had left her again and again during the span of 22 years. What does that tell her about how much she values her own life? Not so much, obviously.

She cries it out, the ugliest she has ever had, discounting 2008. Her therapist makes good at observing her breakdown, probably making mental notes whether it has really hit her. Or whether she is in still fucking denial.

She survives the first session and goes to the next. “Tessa, do you agree that you associate your happiness with other people?”

“I don’t know.”

“What was your last happy memory?”

“When we won the Olympics.”

“How about your own achievement without involvement of your skating partner?”

“When I first relearned how to walk?”

“Do you realise it was geared towards making your partner happy too?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Something simple, and not too grand. Like, managing to find parking downtown. Or, getting that last bit of laundry done.”

She thinks for awhile. “I was happy when I saw the rainbow this morning.”

“Good!”

“I was happy when the chocolate croissant was still available at the bakery.”

“We’re on a roll here, Tessa. What else?”

“And you're right, I _was_ pretty happy I managed to secure a parking right in front of your building.”

* * *

_Scott: Hey T. Heard you were in the hospital. Are you ok? Going back to Ilderton in March. See you soon!_

She leaves it unanswered.

* * *

“Hey. You’re my doctor.”

The man turns to look at her, and smiles in surprise. “Hey. You’re Tessa Virtue.”

Tessa laughs, slightly out of breath. “I thought you didn’t know who I was, doc.”

The handsome man chuckles as he slows his jog. “And I’m not your doctor anymore. Let’s make that a one time thing.”

She smiles. “Okay.” They jog together in sync, and she takes her time to admire his stride, and uh, his assets.

“It’s great to see those greens not so bloodshot anymore,” he says as they slow down to brisk walk.

Tessa blushes. She remembers his remark about her eyes in the emergency department about a month ago. “Thank you.”

“So,” he says, hands on hips, smiling down at her.

“You wanna go get some coffee?”

* * *

“Okay. We talked about how your happiness were always associated with your partner. This time, we want to establish the whys.”

Tessa raises an eyebrow. “It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it, doc?” To everybody and their grandma especially in Canada apparently.

“It is. But I want you to acknowledge it.”

“I have acknowledged it plenty of times and all of the times it brought me more harm than good. Exhibit A; Valentine’s.”

“Exactly. You were not aware of how your dependence on him is costing you.”

“But isn’t that how most people in love are supposed to be?”

“To a certain extent. But most people establish a level of trust and involvement before relying on a co-dependency of that level.”

“We were partners for 21 years, doc. How much more involved do you want us to be?”

“But can you say with perfect clarity that you trust him with your heart throughout the entire 21 years of partnership?”

She averts her gaze to the window. Snow is melting. Sun is making good game today. “No.”

“Then why did you feel that you can jeopardise your heart and soul for something so uncertain?”

“People do crazy things when they are in love, doctor.”

“I agree. However, you need to check within yourself. Why the personalisation of him? Are you sure you’re not glorifying him in your head and thus creating this heavy attachment to him?”

“Was it wrong? To love him that much?”

“No. But ask yourself, is it worth the hurt? Loving someone who is worthy shouldn’t hurt so much. He’s not an obligatory love, like a mother loving a daughter. So he was your long-term partner, I give you that. But relationships break, Tessa. It happens. We overcome it the best possible way. You only need to want to.”

Getting over Scott Moir is something she is not proficient in. Maybe it is time to put some things to rest. “How do I start?”

* * *

“Hello, Scott.”

She can hear the smile in his voice. “Hi, T. Took your own sweet time to return my call.”

“Yeah. I’ve been busy.”

The line cracks for awhile. Is he in Florida? “How are you?”

“I’m doing fine. Listen. I have something coming up in May. I don’t think I can make it to Mallorca. But you should still totally go with Jackie!” she says in one breath.

Silence. She almost pulls the phone away from her ear to check the connection before he speaks again. “But T, we promise it’s going to be a joint effort! How am I going to entertain all your socialite best friends like Jen and Miku?”

“I’m sure Jackie has a few tricks up her sleeves.”

“Tess…”

“I’m sorry, Scott. I really can’t. I’m busy with the shop opening. I swear I’ll sign a fat cheque to make up for my absence.”

“It’s not going to be the same without you,” he says quietly.

It’s never going to be the same again, with or without me, Scott. “Trust me, you won’t miss me too much.”

* * *

“You’re doing pretty well with our weather.”

“I was from New York, not Florida.”

That hits a nerve. She knows he has no idea. “Are you stalking me?”

“Miss Virtue, I believe you were the one following me.”

“Okay Dr. Harwood. Let’s just agree we’re sharing a common jogging path.”

He nods, smiling mischievously. His baby blues twinkle and her heart beats furiously. “Let’s.”

They run clean for about twenty minutes, stopping once they reach the end of the forest. “I knew that I should never bet myself against an Olympian,” he huffs, bending slightly to catch his breath.

Tessa chuckles. The snow is melting and the April sun is reflected on his messy golden hair.“Ex-Olympian, you mean. I haven’t been doing my dues.”

“You’re still solid, trust me. What else do you do other than running?”

“I do yoga, pilates. The typical fit chick workouts.”

“You don’t get that kind of abs and biceps with only those, though,” he says, gesturing to her general direction.

She grins. “Dr. Harwood, were you checking out your patient?”

He blushes, which puts all sorts of woodly creatures flitting inside Tessa’s stomach. This adonis behaving like an unruly kid is doing things to her body.

“For what it’s worth, I’m kind of checking you out too,” she adds, putting him out of his misery.

“Kind of?”

Tessa smirks. “Did you model before?”

He looks surprised. “How do you know?”

 _Cause I kind of stalked you online?_ “I’m just shooting it out there and I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I was with A&F for awhile to get through college. Not my finest moments,” he answers, looking embarrassed.

Oh, wow. She blushes just thinking about those dark red sweatpants.

“Do you still have those sweatpants?” she blurts.

Sam turns his head slowly and smirks. “Why? Are you interested in seeing me in it?”

She laughs. She loves how he can be shy and cocky the next minute. “Coffee’s on me.”

* * *

“I told him I couldn’t go to our Gold Medal Plates tour. I don’t think I can survive seeing him with her together too soon. GMP used to be our thing last year. ”

Dr. Selva tilts her head to the side. “You’re detaching from him and reconditioning yourself. Do you feel bad about doing it?”

Tessa pauses to think for awhile. “Honestly, no. He should know that I can’t stand seeing him with other women.”

“That’s good. I’m happy you’re putting yourself first rather than your relationship with him.”

“I don’t like that word you use for me in association with him. Call me petty but Scott and I are not in a relationship. I can’t even call him a friend for the time being.”

Dr. Selva looks at her critically for awhile and offers her a smile. “This is the first time I’m hearing you talk about him in a bad light. This is telling me you are finally realising that he is not so perfect after all. You are slowly weaning him off your ideal and pedestal.”

“Oh, he is not, Doc. The whole reason why I asked for time last year was because I wasn’t convinced. And I was right.”

“Looking back now to that night in February, do you think you would have done it knowing what you know now?”

Tessa looks down on her palms. When she speaks, her voice doesn’t waver. “No. No man is worth harming myself over. Not even Scott Moir.”

* * *

“What’s on your playlist?”

“Wanna swap our iPod?”

She shrugs. Why not. She guesses he’s the type that at least has a Drake and maybe a Hozier on it.

 _Biggie Biggie Biggie can't you see_  
_Sometimes your words just hypnotize me_  
_And I just love your flashy ways_  
_Guess that's why they broke, and you're so paid (uh)_

Her laugh just erupts from her body. “Oh my God, Sam. You gotta come back to 2019!”

He chuckles. “Hey, Biggie lives forever yo. I am from the big NY. What can I say?”

Laughing, she shakes her head as she enjoys the music pounding in her ears. They jog wordlessly through the park, with Tessa side-eyeing Sam occasionally due to the chuckles coming from him.

“What,” she asks, acting offended.

“You’re so emo. I need to enlighten your playlist.”

She snorts, wiping the sweat on her forehead. She’s enjoying the May sun. “Says you Mr. I’m a Creep, I’m a Weirdo.”

He rolls his eyes. “Come on. At least I don’t have pining Michelle Branch on mine.”

She blushes. Damn it. She forgot to delete those.

Then he smiles gently. “But I’m loving all the Simon & Garfunkel. You’re an old soul. Hall & Oates is slightly confusing though. And pretty relieved I’m not hearing TSwift in here.”

She laughs again. “You speak too soon, mister.”

“Someone’s very happy today. Those dimples are doing things to me. Stop it.”

“It’s my birthday today.”

Sam stops in his jog. “Oh. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m telling you now.”

He smiles, almost revered. “Alright then. Happy birthday, Miss Virtue. Am I allowed to ask which birthday?”

“The big thirty,” she reveals.

His eyes light up. “Oh, welcome to the club! I feel like I should personally congratulate you or something. And buy you a membership gift.”

“Or maybe just buy me dinner?”

He raises his head to look at her. She flashes her bravest grin. She seriously thinks she has this.

“I’d be honored to, Miss Virtue.”

* * *

“Hey, T.”

“Hi, Scott. How are you?”

“I’m good. Happy birthday! The big thirty eh? Wanna go out to dinner and celebrate tonight?”

“Hey, thanks. Yep, the big thirty. But I’m sorry. I got plans tonight.”

“You do, eh? I feel like I haven’t seen you since forever.”

“Don’t be dramatic. I think I saw you last month.”

“Ie: forever.”

“We’re gonna meet up soon next month for the tour. You’ll be sick of my face then. Enjoy your freedom while it lasts.”

“It has never happened for the past 21 years. I don’t think it’s happening anytime soon.”

* * *

Dr. Samuel Harwood, MD, knows how to show a girl a good time.

He has packed a picnic basket from The Early Bird and the both of them walk the short distance to the Budweiser Garden. Some local bands are playing and since the weather is pretty, they plan to make the best of it.

She has never in her fifteen or so years of dating, had a picnic planned for her.

She learns that he grew up in the Upper East Side, which throws her off for a bit but she doesn’t pry. He loves hockey, he played in college, and he had spent a year abroad after college, bumming around, before sitting for his MCAT, lost sight of life in a New York City emergency department, before thinking, what is life without some peace and quiet and made the move to London, Ontario.

They walk hand in hand to her house as the show wraps up in the park.

“Maybe you want to come in,” she whispers, looking at his pouty pink lips.

His tongue peaks out to lick his bottom lip. “I know I want to come in.”

They step over the threshold and Tessa closes the door gently behind them.

He pulls her to him before pushing her gently against the door. The baby blues appraise her, as he bites his bottom lip, exhaling gently. “Before we do this. I want you to know, I don’t do these one-night thing. I’m all in. And I know that you had years with him. But it’s me with you right now. I’m not doing this if you don’t see me.”

Tessa shakes her head, pulling his head down to rest against hers. “Jesus, Sam. The way I see it, you’re all I’m gonna see for the next 24 hours. I’m done with the one-night thing too. You’re my birthday gift. And I don’t contemplate my birthday requests lightly,” she whispers, running a hand down his broad chest.

Three months of seeing but not touching, she thinks it’s about time she gets some things into gear.

They walk slowly to her bedroom, where she pushes him down on her bed, before coming to stand in between his knees. They look at each other, smiling, being in the same page, before Sam pulls her down to straddle his lap.

Piece by piece of clothing flutters gently onto the floor, and he lifts her to settle on the bed with him. His tongue explores her mouth gently, traces of the white wine and chocolate that they indulged in the park sends a shiver down her back.

He leaves gentle kisses down her neck, to her breasts, suckling on her nipples, as his big hands pry gently in between her legs. She can feel him thick and hard underneath her, and she squirms a little, trying to get some friction. Her hands grasping his pecs, loving the hard muscles underneath her.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispers reverently, as he looks deep into her eyes. She blushes, kisses him softly on his lips, running a hand through his messy blond hair.

“You want this, baby?” he asks, his low tenor voice stirring the fire in her belly.

She nods, biting her lip. “I do. I want you.”

He sheathes himself in a condom from her drawer and Tessa watches in anticipation as she falls down on his length. Inch by inch swallowed by her pussy, until he is buried to the hilt within her.

“Fuck, Tessa. How are you even real?”

She responds by kissing the air out of him. She lifts her hips and drops down again, adding a little twist before clenching her muscles around him. It is quite a feat though, he fills her to the brim, it’s an unbelievable mix of pleasure and pain, but God, she swears she’s going to feel him for days within her.

She runs her hands on his chest, littered with tattoos of his family crest and ancestors (she learns later that he is quarter Cherokee) and names of his mother and grandmothers (I grew up with them. My mom died early of breast cancer). She kisses the names softly, honoring the women that groomed the man who is worshipping her with his body and soul.

They move together in sync, push and pull, until she can't take it anymore, and crests over into ecstasy. 

* * *

 

She raises on her tiptoes to kiss his shoulder blades. He towers above her, with her head fits perfectly under his chin standing side by side.

“Don’t distract me, woman. You deserve a good breakfast which is not burnt to crisp.”

She laughs. A second later, the doorbell rings.

She frowns. She looks at Sam, who is standing in her kitchen shirtless, only with a pair of wrinkled slim-fit khakis on. That pecs and abs on full display leaves her feeling slightly dizzy. She drools slightly at his perky bottom, when the bell rings again.

She figures if it’s Jordan, she could always tell her to come later.

But it is Scott on her front door, holding a Timmie paperbag.

“Uh, hi Scott?”

“Hi, T!” he says brightly. But his smile drops at the sight of her in a larger-than-his male dress shirt.

“What are you doing here?”

“I figured since you couldn’t do dinner last night, I could bring breakfast to you.”

She bites her lip. “That’s so sweet, Scott.”

“Tess?”

Both of them look back to the voice coming from the hallway. “Hey, man. You’re Scott, right?”

Scott clenches his jaw at the sight in front of him. He measures the shirtless man up, six foot, maybe six two, two hundred pounds of muscles. “Yeah, that’s me. And you are?”

The man smiles, even his blue eyes crinkle when he does. His unruly short blond hair tells Scott things. Things that happened late last night, in bed, with his partner.

Tessa steps forward, in that white shirt which falls down to her thighs and might just look adorable on her if it isn’t for the fact that it belongs to some other man. “Sam. Meet Scott Moir, my skating partner. Scott, meet Sam Harwood.”

* * *

* * *

_If She grow suddenly gracious—reflect. Is it all for thee?_

_The black-buck is stalked through the bullock, and Man through jealousy._

**May, 2019**

Seven months since she has been in his arms off ice.

Yes. He is the one who made his bed back in November. But he always thought that she would wait for him, like how she requested back in July, to wait for her.

In the past, he had strayed, but she managed to pick up the pieces for him.

This time around, it got to his head. He just wanted to break free for awhile, to hate her for requesting some time to reaffirm their whatever, as if twenty one years together didn’t tell her that.

_But you went behind her back and started fucking another woman, didn’t you?_

_Don’t you dare blame her for starting something else with another man long after you rubbed it in her face during the most important night of your career._

He has been making trips to Florida, not doing much, just hanging around Jackie’s place, lounging in the sun. There’s nothing on the calendar for the next few months and he just wants to get away from Canada for awhile. Funny, he used to couldn’t wait to return home. But now, home doesn’t really like him much.

He goes back to their conversation in the limo every single day. He thought that giving her time (like what she had requested) should alleviate her anger. And disappointment. The only thing he didn’t want to do and he ended up failing spectacularly.

But what was he supposed to do?

He did bring Jackie to WOF, despite advices from Cara and his brothers. He did make Tessa cry during the most important night of their lives, and it wasn’t happy tears. He could admit that he has issues being alone. He was grappling for air when Tessa told him for them to get sometime apart. And in order to feel something, he had to go and fuck things up.

And like the MVP that she usually was, she posted on her Insta to encourage simple human kindness when the internet exploded with the knowledge of his affair with a married woman.

And then, he just went through the motion. Jackie is good at wetting his dick, he might even love her for putting up with his insane schedule and fans. But when he came in the condom within the confines of Jackie’s pussy, it wasn’t brown eyes that he saw. It was always gorgeous greens.

Then the season changed from winter to spring and, his hope flares. He came back last month, imagining long hugs and saucy eyes, like how she had always reeled him back in the past. But only polite smiles and perfunctory hug greeted him.

“Hey, sorry I can’t stay long. I need to catch a flight to Montreal.”

He scanned her up and down. Always so beautiful without trying. With Jackie, there’s always a need for make up ‘to sharpen her features’. “So, your boutique. It’s really happening, eh?”

She smiled. “Yeah. I’m trying my hand in designing and want to pick Mathieu’s brain for a bit.”

He let her go with another hug and started thinking, in which realm was he not tagging along in viewing her potential office space and brainstorming her business ideas?

He was really looking forward to see her on her birthday. Last year, they had celebrated on the road with SOI. It was the first time they had acknowledged birthdays; it was the first time he had bought her a cake and that night, he went to town licking her pussy. She had orgasmed in his arms and he had remembered thinking, it was the sight he wanted to see for the rest of his life.

And this morning, it was obvious that she did reach completion last night, but within the arms of another man.

He walks out of her house feeling numb, despite knowing he doesn’t have the rights to. He also notices the frame by her TV missing, the one with the ending pose of Mahler. He’s almost afraid to venture beyond her kitchen and her living room. Forget her bedroom. He thinks he would vomit knowing another brand of aftershave and male clothes slightly larger than his might be littering her floor.

They reunite in June, to start the plan for their second TYCT. He has been listening to a lot of playlists for the past few months, ranging from yearning country to sexy hip hops, while envisioning Tessa turning and writhing in his arms, before Jackie would wrap hers around him to wake him up from his stupor.

“I vote for Halo for our solo.”

“Halo? Beyonce’s Halo?” she questions, frowning. When he was surfing the YouTube, the video reminded him of pre-November.

“Yes. It has strong music, solid to dance to. Romantic.”

She bites her lip. “I’m thinking more of a medley. You know, like Prince? Catchy, powerful? Maybe something to MJ?”

He stops to think. “But people come to see our connection, T. The romance.”

“People come to see us dance, period. Why don’t we leave the romance to Kaitlyn and Andrew?”

In the end, he relents. They stick to the previous layout, with longer stopovers in Alberta and Quebec. He’s brought back to the time when Jackie had surprised him for a visit at Prince George. He is not sure if he wants her to be on the tour with him, but she has hinted heavily about taking a few weeks off to join him on the road.

“I don’t know, baby. You do know how crazy our fans are. I don’t want you getting hurt again,” he keeps on saying. In truth, he doesn’t think he’d have enough energy to fend off any unwanted incidents involving his girlfriend and their fans.

So she is his girlfriend. It is what it is.

“Let’s see. I’m thinking of putting you, Jackie, Elvis and his wife in one bus. The ladies and I will take one bus. The guys will have the other. I think that should work better logistically,” she suggests, looking at her notepad.

He snaps his head up. They had always been on one bus, together. “Jackie is not joining the entire leg.”

“Well, then we should keep a place for her to avoid inconvenience,” she says without missing a beat. “Oh, which reminds me. I have a box of your stuff. I’m running out of space in my closet.”

The euphemism is not lost on him.

During the tour, she sits with the girls during breakfast, laughing at their jokes, sometimes looking down to text furiously on her phone. She often bites her lip, and smiles serenely at something, or downright blushes sometimes when it comes to her and her phone. He used to have his thumbprint as part of her Touch ID. He’s pretty sure that is not the case now.

“Why are you blushing, T? Are you sexting Doc McHotness?” He hears as he steps onto the women’s bus to get to Tessa about some interviews they are due to give. He pauses.

She giggles.

“The giggles explain it all, everybody,” Kaitlyn announces. Meagan and KO laugh. “The smile looks good on you, T.”

“He’s good for me,” she whispers, and from his vantage point at the bus entrance, he can see her hugging her phone close to her chest.

“When are we going to meet him?” KO asks. He feels betrayed by her obvious support for Tessa’s new whatever.

“Soon, I promise.”

* * *

It is one of those hectic weeks where they have shows every single day. He notices her grimace during a lift and immediately knows it is one of the telltale signs that she is having a migraine.

She excuses herself after they complete their solo practice and goes out of the arena to get some fresh air. Against his better judgment, he follows her, after seeing her rummaging through her bag for her phone.

She has walked to the back where the loading area is. She turns a corner and before he can follow suit, he hears her voice.

“Hey, baby. I’m having a migraine.” She never came out straight to him before with complaints. He had to guess it out of her from knowing her too long. But this guy gets a straight confession and it bugs him. Why didn’t she feel like she could tell him if she was sick but she is okay telling this new dude about things, even on the phone?

“I think it’s the lack of sleep.”

“I am drinking enough water. Stop patronising,” she whines, and Scott knows there’d be a pout on her lips.

“I did take my breakfast,” she continues, defensive. Yeah, Scott scoffs. If you call two pieces of crackers breakfast.

“I’m going to pop some cafergot and sleep for awhile. Show is not for another few hours.”

“I’ll eat something for lunch. Fine. I’ll take a photo.”

“Of course I want you here with me! No, you’re not going to be a bother. Why? Because I love you, you idiot!”

His heart thuds painfully in his chest. He hears her giggling, the sound like a bell chiming, like she is surprised. “Of course I do!” she continues. Did he really become witness to Tessa saying I love you for the first time to another guy?

He walks away quietly, his shoulders dropping.

* * *

They arrive in Montreal early September, in time for his birthday. Jackie had wanted to fly in, but he told her he’d be too busy to bring her around.

“You’re gonna hook up with her, aren’t you?”

He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. Apparently they are back to that. “Jackie. She’s dating somebody else.”

“Has that stopped you before?”

He isn’t sure what to say to her.

“You came to me, Scott. _Remember that_.”

How could he not when that action had cost him the only love of his life?

* * *

“Hey, we got that extra day in Montreal. Wanna hang around and retrace our steps circa 2016?” he asks, crossing his fingers behind him.

She looks at him apologetically. “That sounds nice but I got plans, Scott. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah? Who with?” He has an idea but he wants to see her face saying his name. Maybe just to torture himself.

And she doesn’t disappoint. A serene smile blooms on her face. “Sam is coming for a visit.”

He wishes he could look that way when talking about Jackie.

* * *

“What were you doing?”

“What?” he feigns ignorance, tossing his towel into the basket. It feels so fucking good. He would run his hand down her chest and kiss her neck a thousand times over if it keeps on giving him this sort of high.

“Please do not improvise the choreography next time,” she says, gritting her teeth. Her eyes fiery, her jaw tight.

He chuckles, pushing slightly against her shoulder to get to his next costume. “What? You were okay with them before.”

She scoffs behind his back. “Last year, maybe.”

“What’s wrong with this year? We used to be okay with it.”

“Just, I don’t appreciate it, okay? I don’t want Jackie to eyeball me again the way that she did,” she says, exhausted all of the sudden.

He exhales. He knows it, she knows it, but he deflects. “She knows it’s just acting, T.”

She turns on her feet, walking away, defeated. “Yeah. Just, let’s just dance. Without the extra. Everybody and their grandmothers know about our story by now. No need to resell it.”

“Are you pissed because Sam is in the audience?” he blurts, trying to get the upper hand.

She stops. “Yes. Because I told him I’m here to skate, not to be felt up by my skating partner!”

“You were okay before when I ‘felt’ you up,” he retorts.

“That was because I had no self respect. And no Sam.”

Her words gut him deep. “So Sam is be all and end all, is that it?”

She ignores him and walks away.

* * *

When October comes, he anticipates her updating her Insta and Twitter profile. She is always sappy that way about their skating anniversary.

Instead, it reads _3 Olympics. 8 Worlds. Daughter, sister, aunty, lover. Life is too good to feel bad._ Her background has changed to the one of Lake Huron.

He unearths the jewellery box that he had gotten last year in Antwerp. He stares at the ring inside, wondering, when did things go so wrong. He had it all planned, he would propose on their twenty first year skating anniversary. But he had taken that flight to Florida, creating the domino effect of destruction.

If he thought last year when she told him to give him time had broken his heart, this has felt like almost the end for him.

* * *

He breaks it off officially with Jackie in December, leaving a mess in his wake. She screamed at him, accusing him of not attempting to make it work between them. He is at an impasse. He won’t make the move to Florida, because every essence in his body feels like it will be the ultimate betrayal and she won’t go back to Canada, leaving all her friends and life in Florida for a bleak and cold Ilderton.

He starts going in regularly to the skate shop, helping around at the rink. One day, their picture on the wall throws him back so much, he falls on his chair wordlessly, thinking about the last conversation he had with Tessa. It has been two months since the tour and she has been laying low. He has heard from Cara, who often runs into Tessa in London that Sam has moved in and things are getting busy at the boutique.

He is happy for her, truly, but he wants to be happy with her. Hindsight is a bitch.

She texts him during Christmas, wishing him and his family a good holiday and a great new year. He can’t bring himself to foresee 2020. In his mind, it would be the year where Tessa is once again not by his side and that just makes him even more depressed.

In January, he makes an appointment with a local psychologist. He knows he has some shit to sort through and it used to help talking to somebody else.

February comes around. The day of Valentine, he braves himself to walk to her boutique, only to see her jumping into Sam’s embrace, the man towering over her, a bouquet of pink roses in his hand.

The snow melts and the flowers start blooming. They hang out once at the Bag Lady, right after he finishes a session with his psychologist. She doesn’t know, and he wants to leave it that way. She looks vibrant, it is no longer awkward between them. He contemplates telling her about Jackie, but does she even care?

“It’s good seeing you outside of the rink, Scott. I heard you’re opening another shop in Kitchener,” she says, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She is back to her light brown tone, no longer needing to dye to match his.

He nods, itching to run his fingers down her cheek. He notices a new charmed bracelet on her left wrist, with two charms adorning it. He wonders who gives it to her and what it stands for. “Finally getting around to straighten shit back here in London,” he says, smiling a little. He did waste a majority of his time jet setting to Florida last year.

She smiles back, good-naturedly. “You always have a good eye for this business, Scott. I’m sure things will only go up from here. You have Paul behind your back, you’re golden.”

 _How about you? Do you have my back?_ he wants to ask.

They don’t talk about Sam, which he is grateful for. She is always so supportive, listening intently to his future business plans, asking all the right questions.

She is back to being his best friend, and he can’t ask for more.

But, as selfish as he is, he yearns more, as he tells his psychologist.

“Scott, you can’t jump into another relationship right after you just ended a disastrous one,” Dr. Chan says.

“It’s not jumping if I’ve been emotionally attached to her for the past 21 years,” he rebuts back.

“If so, why were you in other relationships, then?”

“I was self destructing, my best logical reason.”

He decides to concentrate on himself, and agrees with his doctor. He needs to correct his relationship with his family, which has gone slightly skewed after deciding to date Jackie last year. He knows his parents has felt the loss when Tessa started to appear less and less, and he started flying off to Florida more and more. Tessa is like another daughter to them, so when shit hit the fan last year, it felt like he was breaking apart a family, not only a relationship.

They decide to take a year off from skating, and from the press. The distance is eating away at his heart. 

A few months has gone by, where he refrains himself from visiting her boutique and her house. He watches her from afar sometimes, perpetually with a happy smile on her face nowadays. Sometimes he spots her driving by his shop, sunglasses on, passing by without another glance. He hears from Charlie, who runs into her and Sam jogging together sometimes, and the way how Charlie gloats at how happy he is seeing her, makes him feel like punching his brother in the face.

Her birthday comes, and he itches to see her, but he knows she will be celebrating with him. He waits a week, feeling determined. He is starting to see the bigger picture. The future. And in it he is unable to visualise any other woman. Only her.

Tessa opens the door to him, looking slightly perplexed. She hesitates for awhile before stepping back, allowing him to enter. The last time he was in the house was about a year ago, on her thirtieth birthday. Now, thirty one, she looks beautiful and relaxed, and loath for Scott to admit, content.

As usual, she displays concern for him. Before he loses his nerves, he decides to go for the jugular.

He learns about her overdose. He learns about her knowledge of the ring from Antwerp.

Only to find that beautiful emerald ring on her finger. Another ring from another man.

Again, that day, he has come full circle.


End file.
